


Tether

by B_Cubbins



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Dry Humping, F/M, Finger Sucking, Power Imbalance, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:49:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27700940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Cubbins/pseuds/B_Cubbins
Summary: Starlight relishes in being the one who holds the tether to which Homelander is bound---Perhaps too much.
Relationships: The Homelander | John/Starlight | Annie January
Comments: 14
Kudos: 52





	Tether

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during / after season two's finale

Starlight distantly senses a shift within her as she's kicking Stormfront's convulsing body. 

The groans of pains and crushing blows become muffled noises in the back of her mind, drowned out by the cacophony of her thundering heart and roaring blood. 

Exhilaration paired with unbridled rage makes her vision go red. She's frightened by it at first, but fear gives way to invigoration as she keeps kicking. 

It's similar to the feeling she experiences when she absorbs electricity ; a glowing warmth within her chest, building and building until it explodes from her palms. But this feeling seems to act in inverse--instead of power ebbing from her, she feels as though there is a new wealth of it that has just begin charging _within_ her. 

It's intoxicating. She's practically slavering by the third kick, mouth stretched into a grotesque grin of unfettered joy.

As she watches Stormfront flee to the sky, Starlight dimly realizes that her first reaction is not fear that the villainous supe will wreak havoc elsewhere--but instead, disappointment that she was robbed of the satisfaction of getting to crush her skull beneath her foot. 

The thought only disturbs Starlight for a moment...  


\----

_'...As I said before, we are your heroes and we will protect you. God bless America, thank you....'_

Homelander finishes his speech and the crowd is silent for a moment. Stunned. 

Then all at once, the news reporters break out into one deafening roar of questions and inquiries. 

Starlight watches Homelander keenly from the side of the stage. 

He answers each question mechanically ; his face and voice devoid of emotion. 

When he turns to glance at Starlight while giving a response regarding her reinstatement, she is struck by the glazed, departed look in his crystalline eyes. 

It quickly dawns on her that she's seen this look before. In the days following her 'indoctrination' into the Seven, she would see that very same gaze lifelessly staring back at her every time she passed a mirror.

In that moment, a sudden truth becomes evident to Starlight ;

Homelander had finally been broken. 

She feels a heady rush of excitement flood through her. 

Homelander had finally been broken... _by her._

She subconsciously touches the cross hanging around her neck and smiles faintly. It's blasphemous to consider oneself godly, even if one is super-abled, but Starlight cannot deny that she takes great pleasure in the mounting feeling of power growing within her. 

Having the most feared man on the planet bending to her will ignites something within her that is nothing short of addictive. With a crook of her finger, Homelander follows her, poses for a picture, helps her back into the limo. 

She leans nearer to him and feels a rush of elation, akin to that one might feel while stroking a tiger.

It is invigorating knowing she holds the tether to which he is bound. 

If she didn't know any better, she'd think he was enjoying it. His eyes are downcast and baleful, but his cheeks are tinged with red. 

\----

Starlight begins to understand the extent of control when she wakes up to Homelander standing over her bed that night. 

His eyes are roaming up and down her form with terrifying scrutiny. 

_'What the hell are you doing in here!?'_ She all but screams, scrambling backwards until her back hits the headboard.

'I...can't be alone' Homelander murmurs the words so quietly they are almost inaudible. He elaborates no further, instead contenting himself to stare--unabashedly--down at her chest. 

Through her initial alarm, Starlight can feel her face burn with embarrassment ; she's wearing one of her ratty old taekwondo shirts from Des Moines. After countless washes, it's practically transparent. 

She attempts to recompose herself, tightly wrapping her sheets around her form. She fumbles for the lamp on her nightstand, flicking the switch on.

Homelander's face is flushed and his lips seem to be chapped. Had he been outside? 

His suit is rumpled, as if he's rezipped it in in haste. She can see a sliver of his hip where the top portion of has ridden up. She drags her eyes back up to his. 

It's strangely unnerving seeing him look disheveled after only ever having seen him meticulously put together.

'Where were you?' 

She's made it clear that he is no longer allowed to fly anywhere without her or Maeve's knowledge. He's under strict orders to staying within Seven Tower--or else. 

'The roof', He answers flatly. Technically within his parameters, Starlight notes. 

He sways a little on his feet, leering slightly towards her bed.

'I can't be alone', he says again, his voice is eerily small, like lost child's. 'She's gone. They're all gone....' 

Starlight doesn't bother asking him to clarify who 'she' is. Instead, choosing to lean back on the headboard and regard the other Supe for a moment. 

How far he's strayed from the brilliant figure who used to appear on her television screen back in Iowa-- telling her to eat vegetables and look both ways before crossing the street. She remembers a time when she regarded the image of Homelander as a stand-in for her own absent father. He always appeared so strong, so unwavering. 

The husk trembling before her now is a far cry from that man.

Starlight can't decide if she's horrified or intrigued. She's witnessed the expanse of Homelander's extensive array of masks ; crushing authoritarian, charming talk-show guest, blood-lusting sociopath---Never vulnerable child. 

Starlight doesn't take her eyes off of him as she slowly curls her legs, making room on the mattress. 

She stiffly nods to the foot of her bed and, after a moment, Homelander seems to understand.

He hurriedly stumbles out of his boots, and unclips his cape from his shoulders. 

'That's enough'. Starlight stops him as he begins to unzip his trousers. He ceases all movement, hands hovering in front of him. 

It takes Starlight a moment to realize--he's waiting.

Waiting for her instruction.

She nods slowly, 'Go on...'

Slowly crawling onto the bed, he shuffles to the foot of the mattress with an exaggerated amount of caution. It's as if he's afraid if they accidentally touch, Starlight will send him away. 

Giving her one last unreadable stare, he turns away from her and curls into the fetal position.

Starlight fights to keep her eyes trained on him in the darkness. 

She doesn't remember falling asleep.

\----

Starlight awakens the next morning feeling well-rested for the first time in months. 

She sighs and stretches but freezes when she feels a heavy, deadweight on her left foot. Glancing down, she releases a small aborted gasp--having temporarily forgotten the previous night's events.

Homelander is curled around her foot, one of his hands is gripping her ankle like a vice. His other hand is clenched into a fist near his face. 

Starlight squints incredulously-- the hero appears to be sucking his thumb. 

She sits up, careful not to move too abruptly, lest she awaken the man at her feet. She leans over him, taking in the strange sight with more clarity.

She is taken aback by much younger Homelander looks in his sleep. 

The cruel creases by his nose and mouth are smooth. Without the ever-present sneer, he looks...almost non-threatening. 

His blond hair is mussed, splayed out in different angles above his head like a halo. 

Starlight resists the urge to brush aside a strand that rests on his cheek, stiffly reminding herself who this is--what he is. 

After a slight struggle--during which Homelander miraculously does not wake up--Starlight manages to free her foot from his grip. She lithely pads to her bathroom and begins getting ready for the day. 

As she showers, her mind wanders to back to Homelander, the image of him so vulnerable and infantile stirs a strange feeling in her chest.

She tries not to dwell on it.

When she returns to the bedroom, Homelander is nowhere to be seen, her bed is in complete disarray, as if he tore out of the sheets and flew away.

\----

That morning, they are called to a bank robbery. Homelander is already at the scene of the crime when Starlight arrives. His hair is combed impeccably, suit freshly pressed. His lifeless expression is in stark contrast to his perfect exterior and calm demeanor. 

He obediently waits for Starlight to brief him on their plan of action, eyes trained on her boots. 

The attempted heist is handled easily enough. Homelander holds down one of the perpetrators and is very clearly about to burn two mortally fatal burns to his face when Starlight intervenes, grabbing his shoulder. 

'Stop'

Homelander jerkily whips around, eyes ablaze with searing red heat. Pent up frustration and aggression bubbles to the surface, twisting his features into an expression of pure, unadulterated rage. 

Starlight resists the urge to flinch back, instead squeezing his shoulder--a thinly veiled threat.

'I _said_ stop'

A muscle in Homelander's cheek jumps. His hands tighten on the perp's collar, unwilling to let go. Starlight momentarily thinks he's going to turn his molten gaze on her--but then his face slowly begins draining of its intensity, finally giving way to dull resignation. 

He turns back to the criminal and shoves him away hard enough to break his back. Starlight considers this a fair compromise. 

They end up leaving the robbers tied up for the police. 

Homelander sullenly follows her back to the tower, trailing behind her like a shadow. They part ways when they reach floor 99, but even as Starlight enters her quarters, she can feel his eyes on her. 

\----

That night, when Starlight returns from her bathroom, having brushed her teeth and changed into her pajamas, she is greeted by the sight of Homelander standing in the middle of her bedroom.

'So this is gonna be a nightly occurrence, then?' She mentally congratulates herself for managing to sound calm and collected, despite how startled she actually is. 

Homelander doesn't answer her. His eyes follows her movements as she walks to the closet to retrieve a sweater. 

She glances into her closet, then back at him, 'Do you own any pajamas, or do you actually like sleeping in that spandex nightmare?'

This seems to break him out of whatever demure trance he's in. His mouth curves into a familiar sneer, 'I don't usually sleep clothed'. 

Starlight's cheeks burn at this divulgement. She fights to appear unfazed, turning back to him and with her best nonplussed face. 

'Well if you want to sleep here then you have to change out of that suit--and into something clean. I don't want the blood and grit of the day on my sheets'. 

Homelander stares at her. Unmoving. 

Starlight's eyebrows arch. Homelander has been uncharacteristically obedient until now. 

It suddenly dawns on Starlight that him changing out of his suit is an additional chink in his mask. He's hesitant to peel back another layer of the façade and expose more of himself to her.

'I do have pajamas,' he finally concedes ; his pride outweighed by his desperation for her company.

Starlight nods her approval, taking a seat on her bed, 'Go get them'

And just like that, Homelander is back to being quick to obey; leaving the room for a moment, then reappearing shortly with a bundle of clothing under his arm.

Starlight gestures to the bathroom and patiently waits for his return. Her imagination fails her as she tries in vain to picture the hero in a flannel pajama set.

After what feels like an unnecessarily long time for someone to change their clothes, Homelander slowly reenters the room, visibly uncomfortable. He's dressed in a white t-shirt emblazoned with an American flag and red boxer shorts. The shirt is very obviously a relic ; it's entirely too small for him and the flag on it is faded and stretched obscenely over his chest. It stops two-thirds the way down his flat stomach, revealing a generous amount of skin. 

'Jesus, I'm not even going to ask when that's from', Starlight blows out an incredulous sigh. This night continues to increase in its uncanniness. She momentarily considers pinching herself to make sure that this isn't some bizarre dream conjured up by her sporadic nightly eating habits. 

Homelander looks down at the shirt, an uncharacteristic expression of self consciousness flitting across his features '...It was a gift...from when I used to have an alter-ego'. 

He doesn't elaborate further and Starlight doesn't ask him to. Frankly, she doesn't care if he's wearing a onesie--so long as he's sleeping clothed.

'Come here'

He swallows thickly and stiffly moves towards her, stopping when their knees brush. She looks at the American flag on his shirt and against her better judgement, brushes her fingers against it.

Homelander's stomach muscles visibly tense. He seems to be holding his breath. She traces her finger across one of the faded red stripes, deliberately, just to see his reaction. 

He remains still, but she can see his hands shaking, clenched into fists at his sides. 

Finally, she draws her fingers back.

'Let's go to sleep' 

\----

Starlight reawakens with a jolt, rattled awake by a particularly disturbing nightmare; Stormfront towering over her, boot raised above the blonde's head. 

She blearily glances down and finds herself watching Homelander. Something about seeing him is grounding. The irony of this sentiment is not lost on her, but there is an undeniable sense of comfort that comes with having the strongest man in the world curled at her feet like a dog .

He's sucking his thumb again, his eyebrows are furrowed in clear discomfort. Starlight dimly wonders if he's having a nightmare too. 

She scoots forward. 

She blames her actions on sleep deprivation when she outstretches a hand and begins running her fingers through Homelander's hair. 

The crease in his forehead immediately smooths. His lips goes slack around his thumb and a quiet groan bubbles from somewhere deep within his chest.

Feeling daring--and only slightly deranged--she scratches softly at his scalp.

Starlight cannot believe the absurdity of it, Homelander is practically _purring_ beneath her fingers, leaning into her touch like an overgrown house-cat. 

Almost reluctantly, she draws back. Reclining against her pillow and watching in detached fascination as Homelander turns his head slowly, to and fro, blindly seeking her again. His thumb finds its way back in his mouth ; he looks distressed without her touch.

She falls back asleep with a strange feeling of satisfaction curling within her chest.

\----

The next time Starlight wakes up that night, Homelander is sucking _her_ thumb. 

Or rather, her fingers.

It's still dark out, the only source of light comes from the neon ads below in Vought Square. Evidently, sometime in the night Homelander has made his way from the foot of her bed to a spot at her side. 

His head is resting on her hip, one hand tightly wrapped around her waist. The other is firmly gripping her wrist, preventing her from retracting her fingers from his lips.

Starlight's initial reaction is to pull away, but when she attempts, the hand around her waist tightens almost painfully and Homelander lets out a gravelly whimper. She stills her movements, now fully awake and heavily enthralled by the sight before her. 

He sucks with a slow, but insistent rhythm. Occasionally he swallows with a quiet moan. 

She watches, entranced by the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down and how his lips purse around her digits.

She gently flexes her fingers, exploring the warm, wet cavern of his mouth. Emboldened, she softly brushes the pad of her index finger against the velvety surface of his tongue. 

He grunts softly in response, tongue delving between her digits, stroking against the webbing. The feeling travels from between her fingers all the way down to her core. Starlight's thighs begin rubbing together, seemingly on their own accord. 

Then suddenly, Homelander's cheeks hollow and he gives Starlight's fingers a particularly strong suck. The sensation shoots from her fingers to the apex of her legs. She gasps, and Homelander's eyes flutter open at the sound. 

He makes a quiet, sleepy noise that lilts at the end questioningly. Then he glances down at her hand, still partway in his mouth. His expression transforms from confusion to mortification. Quickly slipping the wet digits from his mouth, he wordlessly turns over and curls in on himself. 

Starlight stares at his back dumbfoundedly, practically gaping. She knows he's still awake, he's holding his breath rigidly and very clearly trying to make himself as small as possible.

Starlight ignores the rational part of her mind as she grips his shoulder and turns him onto his back. His expression is blank, eyes averted in clear humiliation. She looks down and is only slightly surprised to see the tent in his boxers. Her eyes flit back up to his face, which is steadily growing more and more red under her scrutiny .

Starlight considers her options. 

The right thing to do would be recoil in disgust and kick him out.

The wrong thing would be....

She shifts so that she's sitting atop his stomach. 

Homelander's eyes instantly fly back to hers, his breath catching. He blinks at her questioningly, searching her gaze for mockery or judgment. When he finds neither, he relaxes ever-so-slightly beneath her. 

She doesn't take her eyes off of him as she slowly raises her fingers to his lips. 

'For being good...' she doesn't know where these words come from, it feels as though someone is speaking them. Homelander's eyes grow round with rapture. 

'For listening to me...'

She's speaking more to herself than him. Trying to rationalize her behavior. 

This is simply a reward for his cooperation. 

She ignores the niggling voice in her mind that says she enjoys seeing him so pliant beneath her. That she revels in the way he is currently staring at her with such unabashed reverence and worship.

With an almost coy look, he opens his mouth and greedily takes her fingers back in. 

Then, as if slipping under an instantaneous trance, Homelander's eyes glaze over and he begins sucking again. Now awake, he suckles with more fervor. He grips her wrist, as if she's scared she'll change her mind and turn away.

With his warm tongue flicking between her fingers again, Starlight instinctively grinds down on Homlander's firm stomach. This seems to elate the other hero; his heart beats furiously beneath Starlight's free hand, resting upon his broad chest. 

Slowly, not removing her fingers from her mouth, she shifts herself slightly lower, her hips now resting on his groin. He's painfully hard beneath her, clearly enjoying his reward in more ways than one. 

He stares up at her beseechingly, a silent request for permission. She nods almost indiscernibly and he begins moving his hips, grinding against her ass, slowly. She returns his movements with her own, biting back moans that threaten to escape from her throat.

Starlight feels a rush of power sitting atop him. The expression of desperation in his eyes makes the pressure building in her lower body grow stronger and stronger. 

Testing her leeway, she suddenly stops moving and raises her hips as if to get off of him. He whines around her fingers but to her surprise, makes no effort to keep her still.

He paws weakly at her hips, pleading for her to keep moving. Removing her fingers from his mouth, she lightly bats his hands away and is shocked to see them fall limply at his sides.

'Please' he whispers, his voice soft and childlike, 'Please, Starlight, I need it...'

The sound of her name falling from his lips in such a desperate tone almost sends her over the edge. She counts to ten in her head, and pretends to consider his words.

She nods again, not trusting her voice.

His hands return to her hips and he holds on to her with a fierce possessiveness. His movements become violent, almost feral. If Starlight had been a normal human, her pelvis might have shattered from the force with which he was thrusting against her--but Starlight is not a normal human, and she moves against him with a similar intensity, matched in fervor.

Then suddenly his entire body tenses mid-thrust; he crushes her lithe form against him, whining as he reaches completion. At the same time, Starlight feels a familiar sense of euphoria spread through her body and she gasps. 

The lights in her room brighten to a point of blinding brightness and then shatter. She can't bring herself to care about the damages she's causing--both within the room and within herself. Through her own ecstasy, she feels the same dim realization she experienced while brutalizing Stormfront. 

An evident shift inside her. She does not know if it's for better or worse, but everything has changed now. 

Homelander rests his forehead on her collar bone, face buried into her chest. She can feel him panting roughly, worn-out and spent. But despite his exhaustion, his grip does not loosen on her waist. He holds her against him for what feels like hours, simply breathing against her, sharing her warmth.

Tentatively, Starlight brings a hand to his head, running her fingers through his hair as she did earlier that night. He melts against her almost instantly.

Starlight finally breaks the silence.

'...Are you going to keep listening--keep being good for me?'

Homelander is still for a long time. For a moment, Starlight thinks he has fallen asleep. Then he slowly draws back from her chest.

Even in the darkness, Starlight can see his bright blue eyes. For the first time in what seems like an eternity, they look warm, alive; honeyed with reverence, and devotion. The intensity of his gaze is almost frightening. 

He nods slowly at first, then more firmly.

'Yes...', he whispers softly, pressing his cheek against her chest again. 'Yes'. His arms tighten around her with an unyielding resoluteness. There is an unspoken promise in the strength of his grasp ; he will not let go easily. 

The tether between them has turned from barbed rope to gold, Starlight thinks hazily. This realization is followed by another--Starlight no longer holds the tether. They are wound in it together ; equally entangled.

_So what does it matter if the tether strangling one is made from barbed rope or gold ? _She thinks, suddenly feeling hollow.__

____

____

The thought only disturbs Starlight for a moment...

**Author's Note:**

> ; )


End file.
